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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834217">A New Beginning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatblondebalrogslayer/pseuds/thegreatblondebalrogslayer'>thegreatblondebalrogslayer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Sails</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, M/M, don't come for me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:29:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatblondebalrogslayer/pseuds/thegreatblondebalrogslayer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So many things could have gone different that day Eleanor died in his arms.</p>
<p>Or, Eleanor was a little further along and Flint has someone new to take care of.</p>
<p>It's a baby, it's Eleanor's baby.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anne Bonny/"Calico" Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny/Max, Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a mix of me wanting Flint and Max to interact and wanting everyone to be a little more ok at the end of the story.</p>
<p>I would also like to say that I don't know how babies work.</p>
<p>Kudos and comments as always are appreciated!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Max is standing on the Walrus and she is furious. Eleanor is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Woodes Rogers has killed her and these </span>
  <em>
    <span>men</span>
  </em>
  <span> can't seem to get over their petty squabbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn't even try to make them see reason, other than Jack. Jack who is foolish, perhaps more so than all of them, but will usually in the end </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has a plan but she needs him. She needs </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anne</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Anne is so near death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wants it to </span>
  <em>
    <span>end</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She wants to be the one to end it, to end </span>
  <em>
    <span>them.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max is furious. Jack is too, but she has a plan. She's about to tell it to him when everything is derailed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She's so involved with her and Jack's argument that she doesn't even notice him approaching until he's almost upon them. Her eyes flit to him when he gets too close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of all of them, he's always frightened her the most. The other pirates, other men, have always been so easy to read. She has always known what they wanted, they always told her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even Silver, to the extent that he was capable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But not Flint. Her power was such that it relied on giving men what they wanted, what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And she had never known what Flint wanted or needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not to mention that he was completely mad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A war with </span>
  <em>
    <span>England</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint strode over to them and gave Jack a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jack looked to her as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>good luck, I do hope he doesn't kill you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wants to scream at them all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Max." Flint says. It's simple, just her name. She's almost surprised he even knows it, but she doesn't think a man like him was ever capable of not knowing every single person that could possibly interfere with his plans. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>madness. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Captain." She answers with one of her smiles, the one that sets men at ease so they want to share with her all their secrets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns at her. "I…" he trails off, whatever it is he seems to be having a hard time saying it. She's beginning to lose what little patience she had to begin with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sees Silver then, lurking in the background with a… there's a look on his face and it scares her. She isn't sure if it's directed at her or Flint, but she doesn't want to find out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Perhaps what needs to be said would best be done in private?" She asks, gesturing to a room with a door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head and leads her to his cabin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's an insight into the mystery that is Captain Flint, if a small one. There are charts and nautical devices strewn over his table. A large red book that looks like it has been opened many times over its lifespan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She then noticed how many </span>
  <em>
    <span>books</span>
  </em>
  <span> there were. She had so rarely seen so many in one place. Most people in Nassau couldn't afford more than a few. And those that could usually cared little for them. Even Woodes Rogers hadn't had so many, and more than a few had been copies of his own book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it had been anyone else she would have gone over to them immediately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it was Captain Flint and she didn't. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She placed her hands gently in front of her stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat in his chair and stroked his beard. "I know that you and Eleanor were close for a time, that you cared for her deeply." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a sharp breath in, this was not what she had expected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I…" he trails off again. "Fuck." He rubs his eyes with his hands and it's then that she notices he's been crying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn't know what to do. Should she comfort him? Or wait? She waits, unwilling to come any closer to such a cornered animal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a minute. Maybe it's more. She waits in that breathless place between reality and… she doesn't know what. That place where you stand when someone you thought you never would understand bears some part of their soul to you. She'd been there many times before, but never like this. Never with someone like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, maybe once with Anne. She's surprised by that thought, of her comparing Anne and Flint to one another, but her instincts are so rarely wrong so she sets it aside. For now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up at her and she's almost struck dumb by how </span>
  <em>
    <span>green</span>
  </em>
  <span> his eyes are. How deep their depths seem to go. "Out of all the people on these ships, over a hundred men, the only ones that give a damn that Eleanor Guthrie is dead are in this room."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is then that she sits down. He pours her a glass of rum and she takes it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"All of the men in her life loved her so poorly." He says and Max wants to scream at him. At them all. "And in the end, she chose the worst of them all to bind herself to, but God I can't blame her." He downs his glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max had never understood Flint but she did even less so now. A small part of her wanted to. She slammed it down deep within her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Eleanor Guthrie never trusted love until she did, then it killed her." Max said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, "And yet I don't think she would have done anything different had she known what her fate was to be."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Would you?" She asks him, she doesn't expect him to answer but grief can sometimes bring out the truth in men like nothing else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No." He says then closes his eyes again. "She wasn't ready for you." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max flinches at that. She knows it's true, but it still stings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why did you ask me here? To toast her memory with a woman you barely know? Who has meddled in the lives of you and your men far too many times for your liking. And your war." She spits out the last word, she can't help it. She can't hide her disdain anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens his eyes again and looks at her. "The only reason they win is because of people like you, people who are too afraid to embrace the unknown. The dark. To live inside the shadows rather than trying to hide in the light."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glares at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They don't care how much you blend in, how much you assimilate. They will find you out, then they will destroy you. As long as there is something different about you, something </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>they will not allow you to exist alongside them. They cannot." His voice stays soft but she can hear the passion in it. The truth. A truth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His </span>
  </em>
  <span>truth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Is that what happened to you?" She asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't answer, she doesn't expect him to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know you want this war to end, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>to end." He starts and she starts to protest, if only to save herself. He holds a hand up. "It's not just my war, it's not up to me or you if it ends or not. But…" he trails off again and looks over to a chest on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn't even noticed it when she entered the room. It was just a chest filled with blankets. A chest filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving</span>
  </em>
  <span> blankets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands up and lets out a bone deep sigh and picks up the squirming object. It lets out a gurgle. He cradles it in his arms and sits on his desk in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The war may not end but I can no longer be a part of it." He says and she stares at him, at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is that." She says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Eleanor made me promise to keep her safe. She… I told her it wasn't him, that Woodes Rogers hadn't brought the Spanish to Nassau. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> island. She was dying." He's staring at the baby like it's his lifeline. "I don't think she believed me. She made me swear to keep her child safe." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at her and she stands up so she can see it properly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She's… she's got Eleanor's hair and eyes. She's perfect. Max finally let's herself cry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you want to hold her?" Flint asks her gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods and he places the babe in her arms. He corrects the position she holds without a word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What's her name?" Max asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint frowns "Eleanor never got the chance to name her." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A fresh set of tears make their way down Max's face. One of them lands on the baby's forehead and it wrinkles it's brow at the intrusion on it's peaceful rest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint laughs. It's an honest laugh and she looks up at him and lets out a small laugh too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some small part of Eleanor Guthrie would survive in this world after all, and the best part at that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max clears her throat. "What are you going to do?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walks back over to his chair and sits down in it. She sits in her own again, careful not to disturb the baby's sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No one knows she's here." He states and she doesn't even know how that's </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Eleanor had always believed him capable of anything. Maybe she was right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But if they did she'd be in danger." Max says. It's a fact. The only people on these ships who gave a damn that Eleanor Guthrie was dead resided in this room, but there were still plenty out there who still harbored much resentment towards her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And more troubling…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"As soon as they find her body, they will know." She states. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> will know."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint nods at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Where will you take her? England? No one will look for Captain Flint there." She says and there is wisdom to her words, she knows that he must know it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flinches "That may be true but James McGraw was thoroughly banished from England and ever setting foot there again." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James </span>
  <span><em>McGraw</em>. That must have been his name. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>banished</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What did a man even do to get banished from England? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She adjusts the babe so that she can caress its face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rogers will find Eleanor’s body, then…” he trails off but he doesn’t need to finish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he would need is for one of his captives to have known that Flint had been with Eleanor before she died. Even though it was no sane conclusion that Flint had somehow been the one to spirit the baby away, Rogers was no sane man. All he would need were the names Flint and Eleanor in the same sentence then he would hunt him down. Hunt them both down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woodes Rogers must be dealt with thoroughly.” Max says. She looks at him and he looks so damned tired. They all are. “Weeks ago when John sent for me I was going to send him away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint looks at her confused. “Away to where.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a deep sigh, “there is a place in savannah. A place where England and others send their more… unmanageable sons. A place like that would likely be able to hold one such as Woodes Rogers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand tenses but all he says is “And you told this to John?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods, she’s not sure what that has to do with anything. Maybe it doesn’t. Or maybe it’s everything. It’s impossible to tell with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rubs his beard “That still doesn’t solve the problem of how to even get him there. He still has men and for the moment all of Havana at his beck and call.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max closes her eyes, the warmth of the child calms her some. “Eleanor was planning to go to Boston before she died.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boston? Why the fuck would she go to Boston?” He asks, taken aback. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was going to petition her grandfather there for aid. She was going to give her family legitimacy through her union with Woodes Rogers.” Max says it calmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you think that, what? You’ll go and ask him in front of his associates to take back Nassau? A place that has been a blight on his and any family tied to it for decades?” He is irritated now and begins to pace the cabin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The baby seems to pick up on his mood and begins to cry. He freezes and takes her from Max. She calms immediately as he walks her around the cabin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve met the elder Guthrie, it will not work. He is too caught up with propriety.” He frowns at her “Though, you may have a shot with his wife. I only met her once years ago, but it seemed to me that she was the true mastermind. The baby changes things too, though I do not think her husband should know, I shudder to think what that man might do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max is more than a little surprised by the man standing before her. “You met her? When she has never come to Nassau.” She would have heard of that, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>would have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he shakes his head “not in Nassau. In England, she was fond of some…” he trails off. He did that a lot, she noticed. “Some friends of mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we sail to Boston then? Petition Eleanor’s grandma then come back and arrest Woodes Rogers?” Max asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flint kisses the top of Eleanor’s baby’s head, she doesn’t even think he realizes he did it. “No, John won’t let me leave. Not like this, not with Madi gone. The war and me are all that he has left now. I don’t think he’ll be willing to let either go so easily.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He says it so calmly, like the fact that the devil that John Silver has become grips him so tightly is of so little concern. She wonders again who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>Captain Flint is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So how do you get him to let you go?” She asks him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closes his eyes “I’m not sure but I think you’ve already given it to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaves Eleanor’s baby in her arms then leaves the cabin. She places the baby down in it’s chest and looks around his cabin. If there was ever a time to even attempt to draw back the heavy curtain surrounding Captain Flint, it was now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t think she’d find much though, all of those man’s secrets were wound up tightly within his very soul.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>James breaks John's heart. </p>
<p>But John broke his first...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had taken such strength to not demand more of the plantation Max had almost sent Silver to. He didn’t think it would work to hold Rogers but something stopped him from saying as much. Something that resided deep within him. </p>
<p>He moves through the ship like a ghost. He knows where he’s going. To who he’s going. </p>
<p>He finds him on the deck. Hands is hovering behind him like some overzealous guard dog. James narrowly avoids making a face at him. </p>
<p>He walks up to John and leans gently against the railing. </p>
<p>John nods at Hands. He walks away but he’s still within eyesight. Maybe he thinks that James will try to kill John. </p>
<p>He doesn’t think he can, not even now. </p>
<p>“You’ve been talking to Max.” John says, all traces of Long John Silver are gone from his voice. He knows what’s coming, he’s guessed it. He’d tried to keep James away from Max, and if it weren’t for the baby he probably would have succeeded.</p>
<p>John looks like he’s been crying. </p>
<p>“I have.” James says. It’s all he says, he waits for John to speak. </p>
<p>“She told you about the plantation.”</p>
<p>“She did.” He looks out at the sea, it is so calm at this moment. He doesn’t know how, he feels a thousand different emotions in this very minute. But the waters remain calm.</p>
<p>John nods. </p>
<p>“Is he there? Knowing you, you would have sent someone to check. They should be back by now. Weeks ago even” The journey from Nassau to Savannah isn’t that far. </p>
<p>“He’s there.” John whispers.</p>
<p>“And you didn’t tell me this because? You didn’t think I needed to know?” He doesn’t need to feign the anger in his voice. “‘You just didn’t feel like it’?” He asks, like it’s some sick parallel to when John told him of what he had done to Dobbs. </p>
<p>Maybe it is.</p>
<p>Or maybe… </p>
<p>“You know what I think?” James asks him, and there’s more of Flint in his voice than there’s been in a long time.</p>
<p>“Please stop.” John asks, begs, he knows where this is going. </p>
<p>But James needs to dig the knife in hard for it to be effective. So they can get away. And God does he want to in this moment. He knows he’ll regret it later but he can’t help himself. </p>
<p>“I think you were going to tell me. I think you wanted to wait until you knew for sure. I think that as time went on, as you waited to learn the truth, that changed. I think that you thought you needed something to have against me. At first to escape this war, then later once you learned of Madi to ensure that I would never escape it. So that I would never leave you.” The words are true, but it is probably more complicated than that. Some of it John probably isn’t even conscious of. Maybe even most of it.</p>
<p>But the knife lands where it needs to and he sees John flinch away from him. God does that hurt. </p>
<p>“I could forgive you wanting to protect me. I could forgive you being concerned about giving me hope and only to have to take it away. I could forgive all of that and more. But this? Using this against me, using him against me? Even if I did not know it?” He knows it’s more complicated than that. That it’s all of those reasons and more at the same time. He knows. </p>
<p>But he needs to leave and this is the quickest way to achieve that. Even if it hurts the most. </p>
<p>“You asked me what I would give to have him back, truth is I didn’t know then. I don’t think I could have.”</p>
<p>“But you do now” John says, it isn’t a question.</p>
<p>“I’m going to go with Jack and Max,” he says, though John already knows this. “I’m going to find Thomas and you won’t see me again.” </p>
<p>John flinches away from him. </p>
<p>James has always excelled at finding the right words to hurt people, especially those closest to him. He’d done it to Gates when he needed. He’d done it to Miranda a dozen times, he’d always regretted it bitterly. He’d even done it to Thomas once, though that time he’d barely been able to look at him afterwards. </p>
<p>But this… Jesus. </p>
<p>And a part of him means it. He’s furious with John, he really is. But most of what he sees standing next to him is his friend; broken and exhausted. He wants to reach out to him but he doesn’t. </p>
<p>The knife is already buried in but some sick and twisted part of him reaches out and twists it. </p>
<p>“I loved you, John.” He says and he sees John’s grip on the railing grow even tighter. James leans over and kisses him on the forehead. </p>
<p>It isn’t a kind thing, the kiss, but it is a true thing. It is a goodbye. John leans into it but with a final tug James rips himself and the knife away.</p>
<p>------------------</p>
<p>He keeps himself from weeping as he’s been doing for over ten years. </p>
<p>He goes back to his cabin and packs the things he cares most about. His books, some of his clothes. His favorite swords and pistols. He ignores Max as he moves through his cabin. His hand pauses as he picks up a ring lying on his desk. It’s one of John’s. He slips it on his finger without a thought. </p>
<p>He can fit it all in one chest and a bag. He grabs another bag and gives it to Max. She places baby Eleanor in it without a word and carries it gingerly in front of her. </p>
<p>“We’re going to the plantation in Savannah first.” He tells her.</p>
<p>“To do what?” She asks him warily.</p>
<p>“We’re going to find an old friend there according to Mr. Silver.”</p>
<p>She raises a delicate eyebrow at him “And Mr. Silver won’t come after us?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head “No.” No, he thinks I broke his heart. </p>
<p>He writes a quick note on a spare piece of paper. She watches him but says nothing. </p>
<p>The men, his men, watch him as he leaves. They don’t understand, they can’t. He never wanted them to. He feigns a trip and slips Dooley the paper. It will find its intended recipient, Dooley has always been his. </p>
<p>He shakes hands with the few of them that had been there longest. John isn’t anywhere to be seen but Israel Hands glares at him silently from the edges of the crew. </p>
<p>He ought to be happy, James thinks, he gets Silver all to himself now.</p>
<p>James helps Max over to the other ship. He knows she doesn’t need it but he isn’t willing to let chance interfere with what she’s carrying. </p>
<p>She leads him to the belly of the ship. </p>
<p>Jack follows them, his face one of utter confusion.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh whoops this was mean. How's everyone doing?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>James mopes, Jack is dramatic, and we're almost to Thomas.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James settles into a hammock next to Anne. She’s turned away from them when they enter the room but Max leads him to a spot next to her. </p>
<p>“You will not be disturbed here,” she says as she hands him the bag she’d carried over with them. She gives Anne a devastating look but leaves the cabin without another word. </p>
<p>Jack stays, unable to resist the mystery of what the fuck is going on. Anne’s eyes are on him too, though hers are more lethargic in their curiosity. </p>
<p>James doesn’t say a word but takes the baby out of the bag. </p>
<p>“Jesus” Anne’s voice cracks out.</p>
<p>Jack leans over to look down at her then back up at James, “Please tell me that’s not who I suspect it is.”</p>
<p>And he can’t. He can’t because Jack Rackham is a lot of things, but he’s always been too damn smart for his own good. “It’s Eleanor’s and no others.” It isn’t much of an improvement to Jack, he’s sure, but it’s all he can offer. </p>
<p>Jack closes his eyes “And no doubt Woodes Rogers will be hunting you, which means he will eventually be hunting us as well.” There’s an iron to his voice, it’s a new thing. He hadn’t had it a few months ago, it would be a good look on him if it weren’t putting James and the baby in possible jeopardy.</p>
<p>“Jack, ‘s just a fucking kid. You really want to give it over to a fuck like Rogers’?” Anne’s voice is weak but firm. And she’s right. </p>
<p>Jack hisses at them both and storms out of the room. </p>
<p>“He’ll come round, just stay out of his way for a couple of days.” Anne says then turns back over and falls asleep. </p>
<p>And then James is left alone with the baby. He draws his knees up in the hammock and places her between them. She stares up at him with her big blue eyes. </p>
<p>She’s so quiet. He hadn’t been around many children in such a long time, not since he was a boy, but none of them had ever been so damn quiet. He thinks he should be worried but he also knows if she had been a noisy child they both might have been dead a few times over by now. </p>
<p>He takes in a deep breath and holds her small hands in his own. She makes a face at him and gurgles some, as if to say I can make noise, I just don’t want to. </p>
<p>He doesn’t even notice he’s crying again until a tear slips down onto his chest. He wipes away at his cheek, he’s so goddamn tired. </p>
<p>He’s so tired and the past few days, no hours, have been too goddamn much. </p>
<p>First the chest wasn’t there, then Rackham tells him about the goddamn keelhauling of Teach and Anne’s brutalization. The Spanish landed on Nassau as well. Then Eleanor dying in his arms after they were finally reunited again. And he knows they would have come to some accord, they always did and he was so tired of losing people. And not only had she died in his arms, but she had done so leaving him with her greatest secret and joy.</p>
<p>He didn’t even know how the fuck she had hidden away from everyone that she was with child, but she had always been so much smarter than everyone had ever suspected. And she apparently knew how to use the large bulks of fabric in her dresses to her advantage.</p>
<p>And he hadn’t even fully processed Madi’s death, he wasn’t even sure he fully believed it yet. She was so vibrant, so full of life. And they had started to come to some level of understanding. </p>
<p>He was weeping in full now. </p>
<p>And Thomas. Jesus, Thomas, he didn’t even dare to hope, not fully at least.</p>
<p>He sat there for several long minutes, trying and failing to stop himself from going there yet. </p>
<p>From hoping. </p>
<p>But then he wipes away his tears and picks up the baby. She whines a little at being disturbed but he adjusts her in his arms and she is silent again.</p>
<p>He walks out and onto the deck. He sees Max standing alone near one of the masts. She looks terribly out of place to him, but she hides it well beneath a strong veneer of confidence.</p>
<p>But then that’s all of them, isn’t it? There were so few pirates that were well and truly the embodiment of the name, and most of them were dead and buried by now.</p>
<p>She sees him approaching and straightens a bit. I wonder what she thinks of me, James asks himself, likely nothing good. But then most people didn’t think too much of him, they never had. Except a select few.</p>
<p>He reaches her and says “I need to sleep at least for a few hours before we reach Savannah and…” He trails off and lifts up the baby in his arms a bit, he doesn’t trust the swaying of the ship to keep a sleeping baby safe in his sleeping arms.</p>
<p>She nods and reaches out her arms. He gives the child to her. </p>
<p>It’s funny in a way, the only person he trusts on this ship with the baby is the one he’s very certain wanted him dead and buried a few hours ago. Maybe she still does, but their interests align now.</p>
<p>And someone had once told him that that was more important than anything else, maybe it was time he took that lesson to heart. </p>
<p>------------------</p>
<p>He sleeps until they arrive in Savannah. He’s not sure how long it was, but he knows it was both too long and not enough time to sleep. </p>
<p>He goes to the deck and looks for Max. She’s sitting in a chair with the baby in her arms. The child looks restless, as does Max. She’s not quite crying but neither of them look terribly happy.</p>
<p>Max wordlessly passes her to James. He takes her and she calms immediately. </p>
<p>Max stares at him “I have been trying to get her to calm for hours.” </p>
<p>James shrugs. </p>
<p>“It can’t be me.” He says. “It can’t be me that goes to find my… friend.”</p>
<p>Max nods cautiously, “You are very recognizable, perhaps Jack?”</p>
<p>James frowns, he’d rather have sent Anne but… “I think the two of you would be best.” </p>
<p>She looks at him sharply, probably wary of leaving him alone on her ship. And with Anne. “And how do I know you will be here when I return?” </p>
<p>He looks past her and over the sea. “You don’t, you can’t. But I swear on Eleanor and her child that I will stay here. I cannot leave.” And she doesn’t know how true it is, but she can’t. And he can’t possibly explain it to her, he doesn't even know how anymore.</p>
<p>She swears but nods, after all they are very close to whatever remains of Charles Town. She marches away and over to Jack, he can see the argument. He can hear the argument in his head. But he stays where he is and looks at the child in his arms. </p>
<p>“You really do need a name don’t you? Maybe Thomas will know what it ought to be.” He closes his eyes. Thomas. He feels so close, like if he just reaches out James could touch him. But he also feels like he might be yanked away at any moment.</p>
<p>That’s another reason James can’t go to the plantation. He can’t bear to stand there and for Thomas not to be there. He knows it won’t be any better than if Max and Jack return alone but… But he’s always exceeded lying to himself about some things. </p>
<p>Jack and Max walk over to him. “You are to stay below decks. We will also need the name of the man we’re looking for.” Jack says, the irritation is dripping from his voice. </p>
<p>James nods, “The man you're looking for is Thomas Hamilton.” He’s impressed that his voice sounds normal, that the world doesn’t stop spinning. He doesn’t even know the last time he’s said that name aloud to someone who didn’t know who he was. Who either of them were. </p>
<p>Jack nods and walks away with Max, though she spares him one last curious glance. He goes below and waits with the baby and Anne.</p>
<p>Anne’s awake when he sits on the hammock next to her. She doesn’t speak but they sit in a quiet camaraderie. </p>
<p>--------------------------</p>
<p>Max rides on her horse next to Jack. She’s always loved horse riding, but she cannot fully bask in it as her riding partner is seemingly miles away. “You’re oddly quiet” she remarks as she looks over to him, a delicate eyebrow raised. </p>
<p>He snorts and looks over to her “I thought you might like me better like this, silent and obedient.” </p>
<p>“I like you best when I know how you  will react, I like you best when I can predict what will come next. I like you…” Max trails off, not quite sure what to say next. She knows he still wants an apology, though both of them know he will not receive one. Still, a part of her wants to give in and cede it if only to bridge the gap between them. Her pride wins out, as does his. </p>
<p>They ride on. </p>
<p>“I am surprised you did not put up more of a fight, I would not think you would want to leave Anne alone on the ship.” Max tries again. </p>
<p>He snorts again and turns to her, it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow now though, like everything about him it is utterly ridiculous. “And risk being alone with Flint? No thank you.”</p>
<p>“But you would leave Anne alone with him?” she asks, because she cannot comprehend why Jack would leave Anne alone in such a situation.</p>
<p>“Oh, Flint and Anne have always gotten along well enough. I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” Jack says as if it isn’t something to worry about. Max can feel the scream working its way up in her chest again. </p>
<p>“Then why-” she starts but Jack cuts her off. He gives her one of his looks that he gets when he’s about to tell a story. She sighs.</p>
<p>“Do you know for nigh on a decade Captain Flint and Charles were constantly at each other's throats? Surely you would have heard about it, even before you fell in with us.” </p>
<p>Of course she had, everyone in the Bahamas knew of the volatile tempers of Captain’s Flint and Vane and how often they clashed with one another. “Yes” is all she says, waiting for him to continue his tale. </p>
<p>“Then surely you have wondered how after a decade of trying to kill one another they came back from Charlestown thick as thieves? How Charles managed to stop Flint from killing us?” There goes his eyebrow again, a pointed reminder of the role, minor though it was, she played in Charles’ execution. She said nothing.</p>
<p>“Everyone on that gods forsaken island did, but Charles wouldn’t have told a single one of them. I think he thought it was funny.” Jack gets a wistful look on his face, it’s the one he gets every time he thinks of his dead friend. </p>
<p>“But he told you,” Max guesses. </p>
<p>“I asked him what the hell happened in Charlestown after they came back. I asked him what the hell had happened with Flint to make Charles of all people so staunch an ally. A friend even.” Jack looked down the road then turned back to her, “He said ‘Once that man lets you in, let’s you see even the smallest sliver of his true self, you can’t help but love him a little’.” Jack laughed, Max thought it sounded a bit unhinged but she said nothing. “Then after that he said ‘Plus he burned Charlestown to the ground.’”</p>
<p>“So you have avoided him because you do not wish to be drawn in like Charles?” Max asks.</p>
<p>“Charles Vane, Miranda Barlow, Hal Gates, Eleanor Guthrie. They’re all dead as I’m sure you’ve noticed. The list goes on I’m quite sure.” Jack flicked the rains and rode a bit ahead of her. The conversation was clearly over. </p>
<p>Max frowned but followed Jack in silence until they reached their destination.</p>
<p>--------------</p>
<p>James had begun to pace around the cabin twenty minutes after Jack and Max had left. For the first fifteen minutes, Anne hadn’t seemed to mind. For the past five she had been watching him, a hint of irritation behind her eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to stop though. </p>
<p>Another minute went by before she snapped. “Jesus calm down would you? Can’t possibly be that bad, whoever they’ve gone to get.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s impossibly good.” James says, bouncing Eleanor’s baby in his arms. </p>
<p>“Then why the fuck are you freaking out?” She glares at him, but not in an unkind way. Because that is a face she can make apparently.</p>
<p>James makes a strangled noise but stops his pacing and sits back down on his hammock. She adjusts a bit, she still can’t move much, to see him better. </p>
<p>“Still haven’t named her yet have you?” Anne asks quietly. </p>
<p>“I can’t think of anything, not anything suitable for her or that Eleanor would have liked.” James mutters, thankful for the change in subject. </p>
<p>“Hmm, that’s a tough one. Never much cared for the Guthrie Cu-” she trails off looking at the baby, perhaps thinking better of what she was about to say “... Eleanor. Could just keep calling it baby couldn’t you? Let her pick her own once she’s old enough?”</p>
<p>James laughed then, a real laugh. Anne smiled a bit at him. “I suppose, though I shudder to think what Thomas would say about that.” </p>
<p>He freezes. Thomas. Had his mind so easily accepted that he was truly alive before his eyes had? </p>
<p>“Thomas.” Anne says, her rough voice sounding out the name. “That your friend they’ve gone after?” </p>
<p>“Yes.” James’ voice is hoarse now. </p>
<p>“You don’t think he’s there do you? Not really, that’s why you sent them there instead.” She’s looking at him as if she sees into his very soul. Maybe she does. She shrugs “Not one to judge.” </p>
<p>“I don’t know what I’ll do if they should return and he’s not with them.” James says. He’s not sure who he’s speaking to. It could have been Anne, or the baby, or the ship itself. </p>
<p>“He’s not just your friend is he?” Anne looks at him sharply. </p>
<p>James doesn’t say anything, but that is an answer in and of itself. </p>
<p>“Won’t tell anyone, know what kind of shit a thing like that can stir up. Even among our brothers.” She closes her eyes and leans back. </p>
<p>“Thank you.” James says.</p>
<p>“Hmm.” Is all she says.</p>
<p>He thinks she falls asleep after that, leaving him all but alone with the baby.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys, thanks so much for reading! I, much like James, am coming up short on baby names. I kind of wanted something from greek mythology but don't want to name the kid after someone who had a tragic ending? Which is unfortunately most people from greek mythology. If anyone has any ideas I'm open to suggestions!</p>
<p>I've started to refer to her as 'the bebe' in my head with Moira Rose's voice.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An escape, a reunion.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Max would never admit it, but as soon as Mr. Oglethorpe started talking, she stopped listening. She had met men like him before, men who said one thing but did another, even if they did not realize those things were two different things. Most of them did not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was glad for Jack’s sitting next to her, he feigned being entranced by Mr. Oglethorpe’s mission. He made the right comments in the right moments and charmed Mr. Oglethorpe so severely she wasn’t at all surprised when they left the plantation in less than an hour with one Mr. Thomas Hamilton at their heels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurry along Mr. Hamilton, it wouldn’t do for our friend Mr. Oglethorpe to realize we’ve just thoroughly conned him out of one of his prized reformed laborers while we’re still within the gates.” Jack said in a hushed town as he walked quickly to their horses. Mr. Hamilton kept up with him well enough but Max struggled some on her considerably shorter legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re not sent here by my Aunt on her deathbed to recover her only nephew, lost to the sands of time? My poor Aunt who has no family left to her after various ailments and tragedies over the years. My poor Aunt who died twelve years ago as my father had no siblings and my mother only one sister.” Mr. Hamilton said, his voice tinted with a faint amusement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max wondered if he had known it was a lie from the beginning, why the hell he had played along, they could be pirates for all he knew. Well, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> pirates. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, well I doubt telling him we were sent by Captain Flint would have worked. The Aunt was the better alternative, I assure you.” Jack got on his horse and waited impatiently for them to mount up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain who?” Hamilton asked in a pleasant but befuddled tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus.” Jack said but didn’t answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jack’s right, we ought to hurry.” Max says soothingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man nods but looks at her before he urges the horse on “So he’s Jack and you are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max looks at him for a moment then answers “I am Max.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles at her and reaches over to her and holds out a hand “Thomas.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles a bit at him, utterly bewildered by this strange man, and shakes it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any day now!” Jack says loudly at them from further down the path, he must have looked back and noticed that they hadn’t moved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ride on in silence for several long minutes before they hear the alarm bells from the plantation start to ring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be too late for them to catch us now if we ride hard to the ship.” Jack says. He spurs the horse on and they follow him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--------------</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been two hours and James has been growing increasingly impatient. Anne is either asleep or ignoring him. The baby is wriggling in his arms, he thinks she’s picked up on his restless state. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks down at her in his arms and she looks back up at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reaches up and pokes him on the chin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Voices above them grow loud. The crew stirs and the ship begins to move, slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He barges out of the room as he hears Jack say “Get us underway quickly Mr. Featherstone, no </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James blinks in the bright sunlight and looks frantically around the ship. The baby gurgles in his arms but he barely hears her. He stops breathing. Or maybe he hadn’t been this whole time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His feet are frozen in the doorway, he can’t move. He can’t move. He can’t… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain Flint!” Rackham is saying something to him as he walks to him, his face more than a little irritated but James isn’t listening to him. He passes the baby into Jack’s arms barely noticing when Jack looks at her uncomfortably and passes it to Max who’s standing next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because there’s a new face on the ship. A new face with a new voice. But it isn’t new at all. And it calls out his name “Captain Flint.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flinches but moves toward it, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I always knew you were dramatic James, but this is a whole other level.” Thomas </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughs</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thomas standing before him. His blonde hair gleams in the sunlight. James wonders if it doesn't have hints of gray in it now, it must, it's been so long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's taller than he remembers him being, he towers over Jack's crew. Thomas had always towered over men in all possible ways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His smile is bright, but more than a little haunted. It looks like it's a stranger to his face, like it's fighting to stay. James swears to himself to never let it slip away again but for a few moments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes, oh God his </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> For years he had wondered if he had the color of them right in his memory. A shade lighter? A bit more green, no less. How had they lit up again in the sun? He asked Miranda once, a few years into their exile but she couldn't answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't ask again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But they were before him now. His memory of them truly had failed him. The wrinkles surrounding them had grown more pronounced over the years. James swore to count each one and treasure them beyond all else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes another faltering step. Another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James stops in front of him looking at this impossible man standing before him. He reaches out a hesitant hand to Thomas’ shoulder. It’s remarkably solid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thomas leans into it and closes his eyes for just a second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.” James says roughly and leads Thomas into the Captains cabin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good heavens James, is that a baby?" Thomas asks as he follows James. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A ghost and a pirate captain meet.</p>
<p>But neither really fit those definitions anymore.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If someone had told James Flint a few years ago that he would have stolen the contents of one of the largest treasure fleets to brave the new world he would have been impressed but believed them. If someone had told him two years ago that he would have started a war with England in a few short years he would have laughed at them then carefully considered the feasibility of such a prospect. If someone had told him a year ago that he would find himself the sudden caretaker of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> small infant he would likely ask how the hell that had happened and who the hell had thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>a good idea. But it wouldn’t be outside of the realm of possibility.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If anyone had told him a month ago that he would be sitting in front of Thomas Hamilton in a matter of weeks he would have shot them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But here he was. Here </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> were. Sitting less than six feet apart, breathing the same air, feeling the same waves hit the hull of the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max sat between them, quietly watching the scene in front of her. Jack stood, leaning against the door. He watched too, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thomas</span>
  </em>
  <span> sat facing him. His blue eyes seemed to be drinking in everything in the room, thirsty beyond the point of reason. They darted across some of the paintings, then back to James. They eyed Jack, then Max, then landed on James again. They glanced hungrily at the sparse collection of books lining Jack’s shelves. Back to James. They flickered to the baby in Max’s arms, curious but he didn’t ask. They landed on James once more. This time they did not leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thomas was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the same room as him. He was alive and </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James looked away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eleanor’s baby seemed to sense the tension in the room because she let out a soft whimper. Max handed her to James. He took her, not wanting to make eye contact with the ghost sitting across from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what would Miranda say if she could see the two of them now? Thomas, sitting there silently watching James and the room around them. The baby, still unnamed, resting in James’ arms. James, unable to even look Thomas in the eye. She would slap him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, she wouldn’t. But she would be… disappointed which was far worse. Maybe she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> watching them. He used to see her, out of the corner of his eye when he was awake. She would talk to him sometimes when he slept, when no one else could see her. But she was gone now, along with Eleanor and dozens more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thomas</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t gone. Not anymore. Right? But maybe he had disappeared since James had looked away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was suddenly gripped with an all encompassing terror, the urgent need to look up and make sure that Thomas was still there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost still sat there. Still. Quiet. Watching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give us the room.” James says. It’s a command and he can tell how it gets under Jack’s skin but they’ve known each other long enough to know when the other is willing to give in. James isn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack grabs his coat. “I think I’ll go check on Anne.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Max eyes them warily but follows Jack out of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The baby gurgles happily in his arms, he looks back to her. Maybe she’s glad to have James to herself. And Thomas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you ever planning to speak to me again or were we to continue in silence?” Thomas asks, James thinks he can hear a hint of irritation in his voice but he can’t be sure. Not anymore. James didn’t look to check it against the expression on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was considering it.” James says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thomas lets out an incredulous laugh, it’s a short, near bitter thing. “Considering speaking to me or considering maintaining this god awful silence?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Is all James says because both are true. Both are unbearable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good Lord, I had forgotten how much of a shit you can be.” Thomas leaned back in his chair and James finally looked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It’s his turn to be incredulous now. “You were always ten times the shit I was, despite what anyone might say!” Because Thomas always </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a brat and</span>
  <em>
    <span> good Lord</span>
  </em>
  <span>, how had he forgotten that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re talking about, I was a model citizen before I met you.” Thomas raised his head up high and sniffed his nose haughtily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James just stared at him, mouth agape. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He says, like it wasn’t Thomas and Miranda who had corrupted him. Well, maybe corrupted wasn’t the right word but still!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes.” Thomas says, standing and begins the short walk over to him. He kneels before James, putting his hands on the armrests of his chair. James leans back involuntarily. Thomas tries not to look hurt but it flickers over his face. He continues on with… whatever this is anyways. “I was an honest, upstanding Lord of England. And you…” he trails off, staring into James’ eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had done this back in London too, James had always felt as if he was judging him. To look into Thomas’ eyes was to bear your soul to him. Back then it had been unbearable because James hadn’t even let himself know his truths, to let another man see them so naked and unhidden… But now? When it was so plain for all to see who he was and what he had done. Who he had become. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had become.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James looked away from Thomas. Away from the child, now asleep in his arms. Away from all that was good in this room, in this world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked and a tear traced a slow, sad trail down his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand came up to his face slowly. It paused for a second before a calloused thumb wiped away the lone, offending, tear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a small shuddering breath that he hadn’t known he was holding in. The hand cupped his cheek and turned it so he was looking at Thomas once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I was saying, I was a model citizen and you were always a no good pirate. But you were always </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> no good pirate.” Thomas looks like he might start crying too. His eyes look just as watery as James’ feel and his other hand is gripping the armrest of his chair with a death grip. James lets out a shaky laugh because he finally believes that Thomas is </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That Thomas is kneeling before him, his warm hand pressed softly against James’ cheek. Like he doesn’t know it’s all that’s holding him together now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thomas is </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thomas is </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thomas isn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghost</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James takes in a deep breath before closing his eyes and leaning into Thomas’ hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“James,” Thomas asks hesitantly “I know I may come to regret asking, but where did you get a baby? And whose is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And James laughs because Thomas never could quite manage to stay still, in body or mind. “It’s a long story actually, a long, sad story.” He opens his eyes slowly and looks at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> alive man in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you tell it to me, the story? Your story?” Thomas asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And James could barely refuse Thomas anything before, and he most certainly couldn’t refuse him anything now, he tells him a story.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells him a story of a family torn apart. He tells him a story of a place that they might have been able to call home once, a place that might have been home had things gone differently. He tells him a story of a woman who was sad and angry but so </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He tells him a story of a pirate captain who had commanded one of the fiercest crews known to the Bahamas. He told him of the men he commanded, their likes and dislikes, their stories, what they feared. What they loved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells Thomas the story of a treasure hunt that had gone wrong in all possible ways. He tells him the story of a lying </span>
  <em>
    <span>God awful</span>
  </em>
  <span> cook, who was a terrible thief to boot. He tells him of the captain’s closest friend who died in the mad hunt for the treasure by a mad captain’s hands. He tells him how they ended up at the mercy of an old friend who had failed them in every possible way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells him how the woman who was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong</span>
  </em>
  <span> had died letting her anger and her </span>
  <em>
    <span>rage</span>
  </em>
  <span> be known to the man who destroyed her and all that she loved. He tells him how the pirate captain had destroyed that man and all he had built. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells him of a war. He tells him of a hope to </span>
  <em>
    <span>change</span>
  </em>
  <span> things, even if it was foolish because what else </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>there?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells him of a young girl with a fire in her eyes who dared to try and tame an untamable place. He tells him of how the captain had failed her, how he was never what she needed him to be. He tells him how he had taken her child from her, for her, as she lay dying in his arms and bade him to take care of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells him how he had abandoned the war, his men, his shit cook, because he couldn’t see a way in which to save them all and the baby. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's disjointed and out of order...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He tells him a story.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s his story. It’s her story. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> story. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thomas </span>
  <em>
    <span>listens.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>listen, I have so many *thoughts* about Eleanor and Flint and ugh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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